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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196897">Sunflower Dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paramour_Party/pseuds/Paramour_Party'>Paramour_Party</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amnesia, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:01:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paramour_Party/pseuds/Paramour_Party</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione couldn't remember him, couldn't remember the experiences they shared, or what brought them together. But a part of her knew deep down, with her whole heart, that she loved him.</p><p>Amnesia AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>31 Days of Writing Challenge - Fall 2020, Marvelously Magical Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sunflower Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompts:<br/>31 Days of Writing: October 25th - hurt/comfort<br/>Marvelously Magical Fanfiction BINGO2020 Square: N1 - Scars<br/>Tumblr Prompt: bloomingmoonflowers-sunflowers: "Tattoo AU?? Hermione and Steve when you have the time :)"<br/>Just Write Discord Trope Bingo: Amnesia (Although, I didn't complete this in time for that bingo deadline whoops)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione, alone for the first time in the last week, stood on shaky legs in the washroom. She placed her hands on either side of the sink to steady herself and hesitated for just a moment before she cleared the foggy mirror. </p><p>She stared and her reflection frowned back. Eyes slowly inspected herself to find any clues on what happened. There was no visible sign of her recent injury, only the phantom pain on her temple lingered. She brushed back her wet curls and pressed at the side of her head where she knew she took a big hit. Like her memories of the last three years, the details of the incident were hazy at best and she thinks she could remember the tinkling sound of falling glass resonating in her mind. </p><p>The longer she stared, the more she found the slight changes in herself. Three years was, after all, a decent amount of time. She noticed the muscle gain and definition, she felt stronger in mind and body despite the recent injury. She also had new scars. Some she could recognize; a tiny white scar over her eyebrow from the Battle of Hogwarts and the faded red line across her torso from Dolohov to name a couple. </p><p>Others, like the slightly raised and puckered scar approximately two inches long on her left shoulder, or the thin silvery one across her shin had her brushing her fingers across them hoping for a memory. </p><p>One scar though… Hermione’s eyes drifted down to where the word Mudblood had been carved into her skin years ago. Instead of seeing the ugly crude writing, her forearm had been tattooed; beautiful and vibrant sunflowers wrapped around from wrist to elbow, elegantly covering the word. When her fingers brushed along this scar, the memories of that awful day weren’t the first to come to mind. Instead, every time she looked at the sunflowers, a warm feeling almost like love bloomed in her chest. </p><p>Hermione wondered what that meant. </p>
<hr/><p>When Hermione finally left the cold and sterile comfort of the Medbay two days later, she sighed in relief. At least until Steve led her to the upper levels of the tower she lived in with people she couldn’t quite remember. </p><p>She’d woken up a little over a week ago with no memory of where she was, or why these strangers, while kind and caring, hovered by her bedside in concern. Frustrated by the lack of memory, she could feel her magic mimicking her agitation, buzzing at her fingertips waiting for release. Instead, she calmed herself as best as she could and tried to follow the feeling in her gut. The one that told her she trusted these people. </p><p>Deep down, she knew she loved each of them as much as she loves Harry and Ron. She trusted the Avengers with her life. She only wished she could remember why. What shared experiences did she have with these people that brought her this level of trust? When she was alone at night, laying in her hospital bed, these thoughts would stomp around in her mind. </p><p>One person, in particular, Steve, she knew she loved above all else. She would look at him and then there’d be butterflies in her chest, fluttering with an abundance of care and love that overwhelmed her. When he looked at her with worried eyes and a frown, instinct told her to move forward, to wrap her arms around him, tuck herself into the crook of his arm, reassure him and let him comfort her too. </p><p>Instead, she turned away from him, glancing away from his stare. </p><p>He hadn’t said anything about it but she knew. She just knew that she and this man are something. Or they <em> were </em> something? Her eyes burned with unshed frustrated tears. She wanted to remember why she loved this man so much that everything in her wanted to just curl into his warmth. </p><p>Hermione pushed those thoughts away again; left it behind until she could go over them when she was truly alone. </p><p>They walked in silence up to her rooms and he stood by the door giving her space to take it all in. The suite felt homey. There were books everywhere; on the bookshelves that lined the walls of the living room, on the coffee table, piled on the floor in the far corner by some cushions and a large puffy looking bean bag chair and a reading lamp that loomed over the space. She walked further into the suite taking in the other rooms; the neat modern-looking bedroom that had beautiful dark wood furniture and soft cream sheets; the en-suite washroom with its sleek glass shower, the large separate clawfoot tub, and marble accents. </p><p>Hermione sighed again when no further memories flashed in mind, only the feelings of home and security lingered in the back of her mind. Although the longer she glanced around the rooms, the more something clicked. Most notable in the washroom, she could see it was clearly a two-person space. There were two hand towels by the sink, two toothbrushes in the cup, two different types of shampoos and soaps at the shower. </p><p>Even in the other rooms, when she looked around with a more critical eye, she noticed more signs. In the bedroom, there were two side tables, one that had her favourite books piled neatly, the other had a cup of pens and pencils and a sketchbook. </p><p>The living room had a desk by the large window. Everything on it is organized just as she’d been doing since Hogwarts, reference books on the left, notebooks or current project centred and pens on the right with her favourite mug. But to the left of the desk, mounted onto the wall is an assortment of jars, each filled with more pencils, pens, paintbrushes and other artistic tools she wasn’t too familiar with. Just next to that, an easel stood ready with a blank canvas. </p><p>She frowned, her thoughts betraying her as they turned towards Steve again. It was like a memory was trying to come to the surface but the harder she tried to pull it forward, it faded back.</p><p>Hermione wished he’d just say something. Confirm her thoughts or at least let her down gently. And then she faltered. She’s a bloody Gryffindor. She could just ask him herself. Have him set everything straight. She steeled her nerves and squared her shoulders in preparation. When she stepped out of the bedroom, Steve was still there lingering by the doorway fidgeting nervously. “Do you like it?” he asked. </p><p>All of her questions got caught in her throat, her Gryffindor bravado failing her. Maybe with everything else from the last three years, she forgot how to be brave too. </p><p>Hermione swallowed and tried not to look away from his earnest blue eyes this time. “It’s… it feels like home,” she replied honestly. </p><p>He smiled softly at her then and her heart stuttered. She only wished she could remember more.</p><p>“I’m glad,” he said. “I’ll just be down the hall, with Bucky, if you need anything, okay?” </p><p>She nodded, her arms wrapping around herself in uncertainty and frustration again. Her magic buzzed under her skin some more, curling in her and waiting for some direction to strike. </p><p>Hermione heard him step forward and looked up when he placed a gentle warm hand on her shoulder. The tension her magic caused slowly unfurled at the touch. “No matter what time it is. You need something, just knock, okay?” </p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>He didn’t sigh but she could see it in the way his shoulders slumped a tiny bit that he wanted to. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly once more and after a hesitant tuck of her curls behind her ear, he turned and walked down the hall. </p><p>Hermione watched with a frown and closed the door. She leaned against it, wondering if she should go after him. “Who are you?” she whispered to herself. “Who are you to me?” </p><p>She bit her lip to hold in the sudden sadness that washed over her.</p>
<hr/><p>Harry, the first familiar face she’d seen since she’d woken up, arrived the next day. He walked across her living room floor with concern in his eyes but purpose in his steps and Hermione launched herself into his arms. She cried without care for the first time since she woke in this slightly different life. </p><p>“Oh, Hermione,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping her tears away. </p><p>They laid on the couch while Harry waited patiently for Hermione to compose herself. He held a comforting arm around her shoulders and his gentle humming filled the silence. When Hermione’s breathing finally evened out, Harry smiled. “Feeling a little better?” </p><p>She nodded. “A good cry always helped,” she replied. “I have questions.” </p><p>Harry chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the Hermione I know if you didn’t have questions.” He nudged her up into a sitting position but kept her tucked at his side. “Before you start, what do you remember?” </p><p>Hermione pursed her lips. What did she remember? She remembered moving to New York for work. She remembered the S.H.I.E.L.D assignment that came across her desk. And then it faded off from there. Since waking, she’d come to learn about The Avengers, that she’d moved in with them; not an Avenger herself, but close enough to assist if the mission called for it. </p><p>“What about Steve?” Harry asked after she told him. </p><p>Hermione blinked and tried to control the way her heart started racing. “What about him?” </p><p>Harry scowled. “I take it he hasn’t said anything yet.” </p><p>She reached for his hand, squeezing it. This was it. This was how she’d get her answers. “Tell me.” </p><p>Harry hesitated and he ruffled his hair back nervously. “This really should be coming from him, Hermione.” </p><p>“Well he hasn’t come forward,” she said with a scowl of her own. </p><p>Harry watched her, his green eyes a little more observant of her emotions now than how they were back at Hogwarts. “Tell me what you think of Steve. Do you remember anything about him?” </p><p>Hermione wanted to tell him that nothing came to mind and paused. That wasn’t quite true. She didn’t have concrete visual memories of him but she'd had dreams. Dreams that felt like it could be memories though they were distant and blurred like she was watching everything from underwater. Alone with her thoughts in a big empty bed that smelt like Steve… she thinks she remembered the feeling of being in love with him. When she closed her eyes, she could almost see him and his smile. She could almost hear him tell her soft ‘I love yous’ in the dark but she couldn’t tell if that was just hopeful dreaming. </p><p>She opened her eyes and looked into Harry’s knowing ones. </p><p>“I think you should talk with him first,” he insisted. </p>
<hr/><p>The clock on the bedside table read three am and Hermione still couldn’t fall asleep. Or rather, she couldn’t stay asleep. A dizzying dream of sunflowers woke her and the overwhelming feeling of missing something or <em>someone</em> washed over her until tears blurred her vision. </p><p>Harry took the guest room on the floor just below hers and she debated going to him for company. Instead, she tossed and turned in bed, trying to find a new comfortable position, blinking her tears away. The thoughts and dreams that were rolling in her mind felt like a tidal wave and she was drowning. </p><p>Why wouldn’t Steve mention something? Anything? Harry’s question and insistence in talking with him implied that something’s there. The more she thought about it, the more her doubt faded. If she could trust her gut about her love for the rest of The Avengers, why couldn’t she have done the same about Steve? The only logical conclusion would be to trust her instincts about this too. </p><p>She rolled over in bed one more time before she lost it. She couldn’t take it anymore. Hermione sat up, flicking a lamp on. She hunched over for a moment, resting her chin on her knees, her hands rubbed against her temple in an attempt to rid herself of her worries. </p><p>With a groan, she looked around the room looking for a distraction. Focusing first on her bedside table, she flicked through the books she’d stacked there. All of them soft and worn under her hand, her well-loved favourites. </p><p>When she surveyed the room again, her eyes landed on the bedside table to her right and then on the sketchbook. She hesitated for just a sliver of a second before reaching for it. There was no name on the cover and when she flipped it over, it started straight away with some pencil sketches. </p><p>The first few pages were sketches of household things. Plenty of plants, a water bottle, the fancy weird looking lamp she saw in the common room several floors down. Following that were sketches of the skyline; several of which she recognized as the view from her balcony. </p><p>After that, there were sketches of people. They started out as sketches of Bucky. Then there were a few of Natasha and Sam and Tony. Some of Tony’s robots and people she didn’t know and wondered if she’d ever met. She stared at the strangers and wondered if she’d be re-introduced to any of them.</p><p>And then there were sketches of her. Her, hunched over a book. A close up of her eyes with the scar over her brow and the few freckles she had along her nose. There was a side profile of her with her curly hair as wild-looking as ever. </p><p>Hermione swallowed the mix of emotions that welled up as she flipped through page after page. Between drawings of her, there were more sketches of places, things, and other people. There were no drawings of Steve, but she suspected she knew why. She paused on the next flip of the page. Sketches of sunflowers; a combination of rough and loose lines filled the page in flowers. Flipping the page again, a reference photo was taped to the upper left corner while detailed sunflowers filled the spread itself. </p><p>Colour splashed through the next few pages and it had her pausing again. These were the first few pages in the sketchbook so far that had any colour. On the final page of this set, she froze, a gasp escaping her lips. She was extremely familiar with this page. She’d been staring at these specific sunflowers every day since she'd woken up, tracing the lines with her fingers softly and wondering what compelled her to choose this. </p><p>Hermione stood from the bed. She grabbed the dressing robe that hung behind her bedroom door and quickly wrapped it around herself, securing the belt with a simple knot. With the sketchbook held gently between her hands, she strode from her suite, still barefoot because she couldn't remember where her slippers were, and walked silently to the door at the end of the hall. </p><p>She caught her breath, glancing at the drawing of sunflowers to give her the last bit of strength she needed to steel her nerves. Steve had to have drawn these. She knew it, deep down in her soul, this was his work. She didn’t need to see his name on it to know. </p><p>Hermione was tired of drowning in her thoughts. She knew it in her heart that she cared for Steve. She knew it like she knew fire is hot, water is wet, she loves Steve. Simple as that.</p><p>She gulped back her fears and worries as she knocked, only then remembering the time. Hermione wondered if she should turn back and wait for a decent hour but the door opened. </p><p>Steve rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his expression pinched in worry. “Hermione? Is everything okay?” He asked, voice raspy from sleep, but his eyes cleared as they took her in. She probably looked like a right mess, unruly curls, probably tear stained-puffy red eyes, the hastily tied robe. His eyes zeroed in on the sketchbook in her hand. On the page it was opened to and how the drawing would mirror the tattoo on her arm. </p><p>“I think we need to talk,” she said. </p><p>He nodded and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. “Let’s go back to your suite, Bucky is a light sleeper and he’s nosy as hell,” he said with a bit of strained smile. </p><p>Hermione offered a weak smile in return at the attempt to lighten the sudden tense mood she brought. She let Steve lead her to her couch, he passed along a cushion that she immediately hugged to herself. </p><p>“Let me get some tea going, and then, I promise, we’ll talk,” He said with a small touch at her shoulder. “Just give me a moment, okay?” </p><p>She nodded, not knowing what else to say. She brought her knees up with the cushion and curled in. Hermione watched him move around the suite and work the small coffee and tea set up she hadn't even known had been at the other end of the room. He moved with a sense of familiarity, something she knew she’d have to learn all over again trying to remember where everything was. </p><p>When he sat next to her, he passed her a mug, another one of her favourites, with tea made just as she liked it. All without even asking. It was an unconscious thought for him, how she had her tea, how she liked hugging a cushion to herself when she felt stressed. She frowned to herself feeling frustrated all over again because she couldn’t remember his little tells. </p><p>They sat in silence, drinking before Hermione set her mug down onto the table.</p><p>She turned to him, taking in his worried frown and the dejected slump in his frame.</p><p>“Do… do you remember anything?” he asked, defeat in his tone because every time Dr. Cho had come around to ask Hermione, the answer hadn’t changed. </p><p>“About us?” she asked boldly and almost immediately regretted it by how hopeful he suddenly looked. She swallowed. “Not… Not the way you’re thinking.” </p><p>She brushed her hand along her tattoo and she noticed how his eyes tracked her movement. </p><p>“In which way then-?” He cut himself off, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands with a sigh. “I didn’t want to rush you, Hermione, or pressure you, or make you feel like I’ve manipulated-”</p><p>Hermione cut him off this time. “Is that why you haven’t said anything?” she asked softly. “Harry mentioned you, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. Although, honestly, that in itself is kind of telling.” </p><p>Steve frowned but didn't meet her eyes. “I told him I wanted to take things slow. That… that hopefully you’d remember with time, or…” </p><p>Hermione felt her heart stutter at the thought of Steve giving up on her and reached for him and Steve held onto her hand tightly. “Or what? Let me go?” </p><p>He looked up at that suddenly, aghast by the suggestion. His eyes widened in horror. “No! I-I’d have done my damn hardest to- to I don’t know, get to know you again and let you get to know me, start from scratch if I had to.” </p><p>“Avoiding me or giving me space is not giving me the opportunity to get to know you again, Steve,” she said. She moved the cushion he’d given her off her lap and slid closer to him. She watched him hesitate, the hand she wasn’t holding making aborted movements to reach for her. </p><p>He sighed. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted to have this conversation.” His thumb rubbed circles on her hand. </p><p>Hermione bit her lip. “I know I said, I don't remember the last three years, Steve. But I remember how I felt. I don’t remember all the reasons why yet, I don’t know our shared experiences or how we got to whatever we are… But I do know that I care for you, a lot. Every time I look at these sunflowers on my skin, I feel happy when the last memory I have of this scar was one of sadness.” </p><p>She held his hand in both of hers as she spoke. “I dream about you. About your smile, and your laugh, and these sunflowers. I dream about your hugs, and your warmth, and your care. I didn’t know if the dreams are memories or just wishful thinking. But I knew… I <em>know</em> I want it to be real.” </p><p>Steve’s eyes glistened but he still hesitated in pulling her close. He just leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. She brought one hand up to his face, thumb brushing along his jaw. “I loved you so much, that memory loss couldn’t wipe that emotion away from me every time I looked at you,” she said, trying to control the waver her voice took when baring her heart to him.</p><p>“I love you,” he whispered against her cheek and he broke, his tears falling. She brushed them away as quickly as she could. “I love you so much, Hermione. I’ve missed you.” </p><p>She blinked back her own tears, the raw emotion in his tone mirrored what she’d been feeling these last few days and didn’t know how to express. Steve’s free hand came up to cup her face, brushing away her tears. Hermione pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, at the corner of his lips, and he pulled her close. His arm wrapped around her, his hand rubbed a comforting line up and down her back. </p><p>“If I don’t get my memories back, we’ll make new ones,” she promised, “It won’t be hard, falling in love with you again.” </p><p>“I want to take this slowly,” Steve told her as he pulled away just enough to look her in the eye, “I don’t want to rush you.” </p><p>She smiled softly. “I trust you to stop if I feel uncomfortable. Do you trust me to know my own limits?” </p><p>He hesitated but nodded. She leaned forward then, pressing the softest kiss to his lips. Steve returned her kiss gently, tentatively. </p><p>She pulled away slightly, lingering close enough to just be a breath away, waiting. Steve surged forward this time. Pulling her in and kissing her, setting the butterflies in her heart fluttering with renewed love. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, hands settling behind his neck as he stole her breath away. He had one hand, still holding her face, while the other came up and tangled into her hair as he put everything he couldn't say into his kiss. When he broke away, he stayed close as they caught their breath. He layered soft kisses on the corner of her lips that twitched up into a smile. He smiled lightly in return against her cheek, then kissed a line up to her temple.  </p><p>Pulling away from him and standing from the couch, she tugged him up with her, trying to lead him to the bedroom.</p><p>“Hermione-” he started. </p><p>But she shook her head, “Just… just stay the night.”</p><p>He paused in his steps as he took her in. His worried look smoothed up into another smile and he pulled her into his side. His hand brushed her hair back from her face and he pressed another kiss to her temple. “Alright, but only because you got that stubborn look in your eye,” he teased gently. </p><p>Hermione’s own worry, that he’d leave again, or continue to give her space faded as he let her lead him to the bed. </p><p>They laid there, Hermione fitting just right against his side until the sun started to rise. Steve whispered stories of their time together between stolen kisses and some exploring touches. He held the hand she’d thrown over him, interlocking their fingers and bringing it up every so often to press light kisses to her knuckles. </p><p>She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep, but when she woke up hours later, still pressed to his side, her ear over his heart, she knew this was how it was supposed to be. She knew that even without her old memories, together, she and Steve would make new ones and everything would be okay. </p><p>She shifted closer to him, bringing their still interlocked hands up to her face and pressing a small kiss of her own to his knuckles. Steve shifted and pulled her closer, wrapping his other arm over her shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured sleepily against her hair. </p><p>“I love you,” she whispered back, and she meant it. She really did love him, with her whole heart and memory loss couldn’t take that away from her.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT AND LOVE I'VE BEEN GETTING ACROSS ALL MY FICS BOTH HERE AND FFN. </p><p>I hope you all enjoyed this little fic, it's been in the works for a while.<br/>If you like other Hermione centric Marvel crossovers, do check out my other stuff haha, or if you wanna prompt something, pass by my Tumblr and drop me an ask :D Sorry for any typos! I was too excited to get this one out.<br/>&lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>Until next time</p></blockquote></div></div>
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